More of a Father
by caldera32
Summary: Neal's confrontation with his father goes a little differently than he had planned and James does something he might regret. AU from the end of 4x16 "In the Wind" with a serving of Neal whump
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Greetings lovely people, I present you with this: my first sojourn outside the _Merlin_ fandom in over a decade.  
I admit that I'm not as well-versed with fanfics for _White Collar_ so it is entirely possible similar things have been written and if so I apologize.  
Anyway, I just saw the season finale (yes, I was a bit behind) and this popped into my head- hope you enjoy :)

Disclaimer: This chapter contains quotes from the original episode, I don't own them or make any money from this

* * *

Neal lowered the phone, hands slightly shaky as he tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket.  
"What did you do, Dad?" His eyebrows rose, inquiring, and his body took on a challenging stance.  
"They arrested Peter for Pratt's murder- what did you do?"

"It was self-defense."

He was calm, too calm for someone who had just killed a man and fled the scene only to be caught attempting to destroy evidence of another murder.

The younger man looked away from his father, disappointed and trying to hide how upset he was at the situation.  
Walking toward the older man, Neal implored him with voice and expression.

"All you have to do is tell the truth and Peter goes free."

James looks back at him serenely and shakes his head.  
"I can't do it," he says as if it's obvious, seemingly unaffected by the way Neal has to take a deep breath to hold down the rising panic.  
"I can't let the bureau put a murder weapon back in my hand."

"The bureau doesn't believe him, he was investigating Pratt off-book. You're the only other person who knows what happened."

"They'll cuff me, Neal. Once they get me... I'll never get away."

The way he said that- so matter-of-fact, voice barely raised- told the CI just how little hope he had of changing the other man's mind.  
But he still had to try.

The desperation showed in his voice, in the way he demanded rather than trying to talk James into coming around on his own.  
"You're gonna testify, and you're gonna clear Peter's name."

Another shake of the head, as if it didn't even matter that tears threatened to fall from his son's eyes.

"You show me you're better than this! You show me you're a decent man."

"The things I've done-"

"Are in the past!"  
He was breathing heavily now, barely able to see out of his watery eyes.  
He wanted to blink but knew it would only cause the tears to start falling in earnest.

James took a deep breath as if considering the other man's words.  
"I'm sorry so-"

Neal reached out, taking hold of his father who had turned to leave.  
"Dad, please, do this for me-"

"Don't!" James barked as he roughly freed himself and Neal stepped back, shocked and slightly frightened by the sudden change from calm to hostile.

"Don't make me do something I'll regret."  
James' voice had a cold, hard edge to it now and Neal stared at him as if he were a stranger- and perhaps he was.  
Perhaps he had never truly met the man standing in front of him.  
His heart broke as James once more faced the door.

Before his body informed his brain exactly what it was doing, Neal found himself tackling the ex-cop to the floor.  
They tumbled haphazardly around the apartment; upsetting the easel, rolling over the coffee table, and smashing against the bookcase.

Neal had youth on his side, but James had training and the willingness to do harm.  
That being the case it wasn't too long before the killer gained the advantage, managing to get the leverage to force his attacker far enough away for him to pull his gun.

_How did I not notice he had a gun?_  
Staring at the weapon, Neal's mind went blank, thoughts nothing more than a wash of white.

Normally this would have been the time where he started talking _more_, but this was different; this was his _father_.  
The fact that he had recently learned just how much it hurts to get shot did not help the situation.

A hint of emotion finally showed on Bennett's face as he held the pistol steady.  
"I hadn't intended to do this," he said softly, then pulled the trigger.

Neal's eyes widened in disbelief, he didn't feel the pain yet but his body knew something had gone spectacularly wrong and his hands rose automatically to clutch at the wound.

James watched with only a hint of sadness as his son sank to his knees before toppling sideways to land in an awkward heap, blood beginning to pool on the cold floor as tears flowed from blue eyes that were fixed on the wall in shock.

"Goodbye Neal."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the enthusiasm, guys :)  
Now, onward!

* * *

June stepped out of the car and bid farewell to her driver, pug in one hand and clutch in the other.

Turning to walk the short distance to her front door, she recognized the figure of Neal's father some distance ahead on the sidewalk; presumably having just finished visiting with his son after the day's events.

She briefly considered calling out, but decided there was no reason to be anything more than civil with him.  
There was just _something _about James Bennett that rubbed her the wrong way, though she would never say as much to Neal; what with the way he fawned over the man.

Shaking her head she sighed and let herself in, excited to hear how everything had gone.

Once Bugsy had been handed over to a maid she climbed the stairs, anticipation making her steps lively.  
Susurrations, the barest suggestion of Neal's voice, reached her as she topped the stairwell- though she couldn't make out the words.

Was he not alone?  
Well, the door was open so it could hardly be anything private.

A twinkle in her eye, June stepped into the doorway.  
"So, how did- Neal!"

All levity fled when she spotted the body on the floor, bloody hands fumbling with a cell phone.

Unfocused eyes swiveled toward her as she sank down beside him before taking the phone and calling 911, what she had assumed the wounded man had been attempting to do.

Clearly not aware of exactly what was happening, Neal reached out for the phone, coughing up blood as he tried to speak.

June shushed him absently as she pressed her own aged hands against the bullet hole, expensive suit jacket now serving as an impromptu bandage, and waited for a voice to come through the speakerphone.

It seemed entirely too long before her call was answered, but she knew it was miraculously quick for a city like New York.

She gave their location and described Neal's condition as best she could; gunshot wound slightly to the right of the chest's center bleeding heavily, coughing up blood, no exit wound (and hadn't her heart simply torn at the sounds of pain and distress when she had shifted him to check), bruises blossoming on his face, difficulty breathing.

Following the dispatcher's instructions she had sealed a clean kitchen towel over the wound with a sheet of acetate from the desk- to prevent air from getting into the wound and collapsing a lung.

Once the plastic was in place Neal's breaths seemed to ease slightly and his gaze cleared a bit as he stared at June imploringly.  
His hand reached for the phone now resting on the floorboards, inadvertently disconnecting it as he pressed his fingers against the screen and choked out a few words in a sound that resembled gasping more than actual speech.

"P- Peter... needs- this."

Misinterpreting his intentions, June assured Neal she would call Peter and picked up the cell to do just that.

"No... needs..."

Strength spent, the conman's body relaxed against the floor, eyes half-closing and jaw going slack despite his desperate attempts to communicate.

"Neal? Neal!"

He wasn't quite unconscious, but still found himself completely unable to reassure June as she frantically felt for a pulse and only slightly relaxed when one was found.

Neal watched, a prisoner in his own tormented body as his benefactor picked Peter's number from the contact list and waited anxiously before leaving a message and hanging up to dial Diana.

"Neal? Did you get him?"  
Agent Berrigan's voice was at once unnaturally loud and strangely muffled in his in-between state.

"Diana, it's June..."  
If he could, Neal might have smiled at her casual address of the agent many people found intimidating.  
"Something's happened."

A pause as Diana worked to place the voice.  
"June? What's wrong? Why are you using Neal's phone?"

June; wonderful, strong woman that she was, let out a slight sob and a few tears fell as she gave the bad news.  
"Neal's been shot. I- I think James may have done it."

The voice at the other end was clipped, precise.  
"I'll be right there."


End file.
